


The Gift

by WastingYourGum



Category: Good Omens (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: Aziraphale occasionally does actually sell books. Maybe it's because he feels a certain kinship with the buyer...





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale settled into his favourite chair, lifted the mug of freshly made tea to his lips… and tsked in annoyance as the bell above the door rang signalling that a customer had just entered the shop.

"Hello?" A deep male voice called through to the back where Aziraphale kept tucked out of sight.

He'd probably go away again in a minute.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Probably.

"Umm, you really shouldn't leave your till unattended you know. Not round here."

Aziraphale put his cup down with a sigh. A helpful comment like that indicated a basic level of decency he shouldn't be rude to on such a nice day - if it was genuine. A quick look at the human should determine the worth of getting up against staying put. Fortunately he had ways of looking that didn't require line of sight.

He closed his eyes.

And reached _out… Ah!_

The human was brighter than most - in every sense. He had the warm glow of a fundamentally good soul but also an aura of intelligence and shrewdness - which revealed he was no naive optimist, rather someone who knew the world well but still actively chose to try to be good. Worthy indeed of a little of his time.

Aziraphale reluctantly opened his eyes again, levered himself up out of his chair and moved through to the main shop.

"I'm so sorry, I was in the middle of something else," he apologised. "Thank you for your concern, though I've never had any problems."

A slightly dishevelled man in a cheap suit stood by the counter. In deference to the heat, he'd taken his jacket off, slung it over one arm and rolled up the sleeves of his equally inexpensive shirt. He was in his fifties and had a rugged handsomeness that reminded Aziraphale fleetingly of a certain archangel, though with none of the sternness or rigidity that came with Gabriel's unbending authority. The human had a much kinder aspect to his demeanour and his salt-and pepper hair was sticking up in casual disarray, reminding Aziraphale of another ethereal being entirely.

"Sorry, perils of the job," the human replied, sheepishly. "I'm a policeman - always makes you think the worst of people."

_But you don't, do you? Quite the opposite. How refreshing._

Aziraphale held out his hand. "Mr Fell. Pleasure to meet you. What can I do for you, Mr...?"

The human swapped his jacket off onto his other arm and took Azirpahle's hand in a broad firm grip. "Lestrade. Thanks."

And there it was - a beautiful undercurrent of love. Love for his city, for his fellow man, for the law and the institution he worked for… Aziraphale basked in it for a moment before letting his hand drop.

"I'm… well…" Lestrade hesitated, searching for words.

As close as they were now standing, Azirpahale felt the sudden upsurge even without physical contact. _Oh!_

"I'm looking for a birthday present for a friend of mine," Lestrade explained. "Well, I say friend, he's more an acquaintance really. Brother of a friend."

_Beloved. He's your beloved. You love him. And you haven't told him._

"And I was just passing and saw your shop and I thought…"

"He might like a book?"

"I think so? He has a big library at his house. I mean, he might just have inherited that but he knows loads about everything so I'm assuming he reads lots. Maybe not books though… Sorry, I'm rambling a bit. It's just… I want to get him something he'll really like, you know?"

"Surely it's not that important if he's only an acquaintance?"

"Yeah.. the thing is… The thing is I'd quite like him to be more than that." Lestrade smiled bashfully at the floor. "Don't know why I'm telling you this. Sorry."

"Please, don't apologise. I would be delighted to help. Honestly. Does he have any specific interests you're aware of? Hobbies?"

"Ummm, he likes old films?"

"Perfect. I have a collection here in which I'm sure I can find something for your friend."

_And you shall take it away at far less than its actual cost and with the most enormous blessing I can bestow on it for your future happiness…_

"That's great! Thank you!" Lestrade smiled with enormous relief and Aziraphale was hit with another surge.

_If you smile like that at him perhaps the blessing will be surplus to requirements!_

"Come through here…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on Chapter 1 - they were tremendously encouraging while writing Chapter 2!

Aziraphale settled back into his favourite chair, lifted the large glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape to his lips… and smiled as Crowley continued regaling him with the story of his latest success (or failure, depending on whose side you were on).

"I mean he's a bishop," Crowley said. "So you expect a certain level of… of…"

"Diagonal movement?" Aziraphale prompted. He kept one eye on the wine that threatened to slosh over the side of Crowley's glass but never quite did. Aziraphale was rather fond of the rug in his office and after a few drinks Crowley tended to gesticulate when talking, regardless of what he was holding at the time.

They had had more than a few drinks.

Crowley frowned. "Is that bishops?"

Aziraphale nodded.

"Yeah, well no, a certain level of... _style_ , y'know, " Crowley continued. "His official residence is a palace but he treats it like it's just a more spacious vicarage. His study has books _everywhere_."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"In a _bookshop_ no, but…"

The bell above the shop door tinkled sharply.

"Oh… _bother_." Aziraphale set his glass down huffily. He'd been so flustered when Crowley showed up unexpectedly, he must have forgotten to lock the door and turn the sign to CLOSED, which was very unlike him.

"Want me to get rid of them?" Crowley offered.

"No, thank you," Aziraphale swiftly replied, recalling his last potential customer who'd ended up wet and bewildered in the pond in St James Park. He stood up, brushed a few crumbs off his trousers and moved towards the main shop.

"Who is it anyway?" Crowley contorted himself trying to look over the back of the chair before giving up, slouching back into his usual sprawl and closing his eyes.

Aziraphale was already halfway round the corner when he heard Crowley hiss, "Fuck. What's _he_ doing here?"

For a sickening moment he thought he was about to find Gabriel standing there but to his surprise - and enormous relief - it was a perfectly ordinary human. A very well dressed and rather attractive human; tall, lean, with sharp features and a piercing gaze...

"Can I help?"

The man gave him a smile with less warmth than Crawley's blood in his snake form.

"Mr Fell?"

"That's right." Aziraphale tentatively took another look at the human.

 _How interesting..._ He was almost perfectly balanced. Light and dark in equal measure, neither one thing nor the other; the greyest soul Aziraphale had ever seen. _Fascinating_...

"I believe you sold this book to an acquaintance of mine recently," the human said, holding out a red, leather bound volume.

Aziraphale was startled out of his musing. "Really? That doesn't sound like me." He could count the number of books he sold per year on one hand, sometimes one finger. He took the book and glanced at the spine. "Gardiner's Guide to... Oh! _You're_ the one."

"I'm the one what?" the human asked, with a perfectly arched eyebrow Crowley would have been proud of.

"You, umm, well, the gentleman that purchased it said it was a present so that means you're the uh, the one with the birthday."

"The 'gentleman that purchased it' did indeed present it to me as a gift."

"And you… don't like it?"

Even the most glibly untruthful humans found it hard to lie in Aziraphale's presence. This one hesitated before admitting, "I… I was greatly pleased by it. And by the manner of its giving." He frowned, annoyed that he'd revealed so much.

"He seemed like a kind and generous soul…"

"He is but I know he's not a man of great financial means, so to say I was surprised by the level of his generosity is somewhat of an understatement. He had no idea of the rarity or value of his gift."

_Nor it seems do you… and I don't mean the book..._

"He took some persuading to tell me how much he'd parted with for it."

"It was a few weeks ago. Could you perhaps remind me…?"

"He claims to have paid twenty pounds." The man snatched the book back from Aziraphlae and started advancing towards him, backing him up towards the office. "Any bookseller worth his salt would know this volume has been out of print for decades and the last copy to sell at auction fetched nearly four thousand."

"Really? Good Heavens."

"I therefore assumed this shop must be some kind of money laundering front but on further investigation it appears we've looked into your financials no fewer than five times and each time found your records are meticulously precise."

"Well, that's very…"

"So precise that they're clearly covering up _something_."

"Umm…" Aziraphale came to a sudden stop as his back bumped up against the door jamb.

"So would you mind explaining to me how you've managed it, Mr 'Fell'? I would say it's merely professional interest but the involvement of the Inspector has elevated it into a personal one."

"I, uhh, well, that is..." Aziraphale trailed off as he realised the human had suddenly gone very still.

"He's quite intimidating, isn't he?" Crowley drawled from where he was leaning against the opposite side of the door.

"Crowley…"

"What? You were dithering. You'd have had to stop him yourself eventually - I just cut to the chase."

Aziraphale ducked out of the frozen human's reach, leaving him looking furiously at the wall.

"He does seem very well informed," Aziraphale said.

"You don't know who this is?" Crowley asked incredulously.

"Should I?"

"His name's Mycroft Holmes and yes, you really should. He practically runs the country." Crowley stepped forward and plucked the book from Holmes's frozen fingers. "You sold him a book? I thought you never parted with them."

"I didn't sell it to _him_. I sold it to someone who wanted to give it to him. I didn't see the harm."

"And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?"

"That still doesn't sound like enough reason for you to actually let him _buy_ a book. I've seen you fob off other people who wanted to buy books as presents."

"Well, he…" Aziraphale wound and unwound his watch chain around his index finger.

"He…? Asked nicely?" Crowley tilted his head so he could peer at Aziraphale over the top of his sunglasses. "Gave you the puppy eyes?"

"He did have very nice eyes as it happens but--" Azirpahale charged on as Crowley smirked and opened his mouth. "If you must know, it was… unrequited love," he mumbled.

"Sorry?"

"The man I sold the book to - he's very much in love with this man but he hasn't told him."

"Oh?" Crowley grinned gleefully "The Iceman's got an admirer, eh?"

"Yes... I'm sorry, 'Iceman'?"

"Nickname. Heard it somewhere." Crowley walked over to Holmes. "You said you liked the gift."

"Yes," Holmes replied flatly.

"And the giver?"

"Yes."

"But you were intrigued by where he'd got it from so you interrogated him?"

"Yes."

"And then came straight here?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear," said Aziraphale. "That doesn't sound nearly as romantic as I'd hoped."

"Do you know he's attracted to you?" Crowley asked Holmes.

Holmes blinked several times. "He… I…"

"Going to take that as a 'nooo'," Crowley drawled.

"Are you attracted to him?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yes." The answer this time came back instantly.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged slow smiles.

"So, _really_ , we'd only be nudging things along a bit," Crowley said.

"My thoughts exactly," Aziraphale beamed. "Shall I?"

"Be my guest. More your area anyway."

Aziraphale took the book from Crowley and slid it back into Holmes's grasp.

"I sold this to your friend in error but as the fault was entirely mine I'm standing by it. The book is now quite legitimately yours. Thank you for informing me of the mistake."

"You're... welcome?" Holmes replied uncertainly.

"You don't need to worry about the financials of my book shop any more. I'm sure you have enough on your plate."

Holmes nodded.

"You should go thank your friend for the very thoughtful gift and apologise for getting over-excited about its provenance."

"We would be delighted to give you a lift there, in fact," Crowley added, putting on his coat.

"That's really not necessary," Aziraphale said. "Besides, you're in no fit state to drive."

"Are you mad? I wouldn't miss this for the world." Crowley shook himself, blinked and smacked his lips. "There we go - sober as a judge."

Aziraphale considered joining him but decided he'd rather maintain the comfortable looseness of a few drinks if he was going to be subjected to Crowley's driving.

Crowley steered Holmes by his shoulders towards the doors. "You strike me as someone who appreciates vintage cars, Mr Holmes. Have I got a treat for you…"

Holmes's driver was dismissed, Lestrade's address obtained and thanks to Crowley's utter disregard for the rules of the road, other road users and the laws of physics in general, they arrived at their destination a mere 10 minutes later.

Lestrade's flat was on the top floor of three. They took the lift up.

"Number 16. Should be… Ah, here we are." Aziraphale moved to position Holmes in front of the door but Crowley stepped in front of him and held up a hand.

"Wait a minute."

Crowley banged on the door. There was a pause followed by a muffled thump then the sound of several locks being disengaged before the door swung open to reveal a flustered Lestrade in white t-shirt and boxer shorts.

He got as far as "Wh--" before Crowley snapped his fingers and he froze.

"This is him?" Crowley asked Aziraphale.

"Yes, that's him."

Crowley looked him up and down and then glanced back at Holmes. "Very nice. Aren't you the lucky boy?"

"The attire is a bonus certainly. If Mr Holmes doesn't leap at this chance, he can't be as clever as he seems."

Aziraphale pushed Holmes towards the doorway, positioned him carefully and brushed some lint from his shoulder as he spoke.

"Now… You're sorry for dashing off earlier. A gift like this shows he must know you better than you thought. You came here to say thank you - and ask him to dinner."

He stepped back. Crowley snapped his fingers again.

Lestrade and Holmes both blinked, then started as they recognised each other.

"Mycroft? I, err, I wasn't expecting... Umm..."

"Lestrade. I... Am I interrupting your evening?"

"No, that's, that's fine. I wasn't doing anything."

"I wanted to apologize for earlier. I dashed off without properly thanking you for the very thoughtful gift. I had no idea you were aware of my… hobby."

"Oh! So you... you do like it then?"

"Very much. It's something I've been after for a long time."

Lestrade's face broke into a smile. "Well, getting something you've wanted for ages is always nice."

"Yes, about that." Holmes gave him a very pointed look. "Am I correct in surmising that the care shown in your choice of gift hints towards a desire for a… closer acquaintanceship?"

Lestrade rubbed the back of his head and looked down at his bare feet. "Oh... well... Only if you want it to… I mean, I wouldn't want to rush you into… _Mmmph_."

The rest of his sentence was lost against Holmes's mouth as the other man swept him into a close embrace and soundly kissed him.

Lestrade froze in surprise for an instant - then melted.

Aziraphale staggered slightly and put his hand to his chest.

Crowley smirked and propped a hand under Aziraphale's elbow as the angel found his footing again.

The two humans came up for air.

"Shall we take this inside?" Holmes asked breathlessly.

"Better had, yeah." Lestrade disentangled himself from Holmes's grasp and stood to one side. "After you."

Holmes strode inside, unbuttoning his coat as he walked. Lestrade slammed the door shut behind him.

Aziraphale was almost glowing. "How wonderful. I think we'll be seeing a lighter side of Mr Holmes in future."

"Worked then?" Crowley asked.

"Very much so." Aziraphale put his hand on the door. "I think… Oh!" He went a little pink. "I think we should probably leave now actually."

There was a loud thump as might be made by two entwined male bodies hitting the wall in the throes of passion...

"Yes, definitely time to go."

They strolled back down the hallway towards the lifts.

"Downstairs won't be best pleased. They've been after Holmes for _years_ ," Crowley said.

"Really?"

"Mmm. Trying to tarnish the familial love and desire for order with little temptations and shortcuts and good intentions… It's been quite the project. They were hoping to get his brother as well but that one got away too - in very similar circumstances, actually."

"Then I'm delighted to have thwarted their evil wiles. Although," Aziraphale stopped walking as he considered. "Won't that cause trouble for you?"

Crowley waved him off. " _Pfft_. I'll toss them a bishop to make up for it."

"Oh, I'm not sure that's…"

"I hadn't got round to telling you what kind of books he was collecting."

"Ah."

They continued on to the end of the corridor. Crowley pressed the call button.

"Back to yours for some more wine?"

"Why not? Ooh!" Aziraphale clapped his hands together as another thought struck him. "Shall I open that box of truffles from Bruges?"

"Thought you were saving those?"

"Today feels like a special occasion."

Crowley smiled indulgently. "Go on then, angel."

The lift doors opened with a soft chime.

Aziraphale stood aside and gestured for Crowley to go first. "After you…"


End file.
